A Tale of Falcons
by dreadthemorning
Summary: House Faulkner has always been loyal to The North and the Starks, but as the war takes hold of Westeros they are willing to do whatever it takes to survive.
1. Prolouge

With a last thrust the knight finished with the peasant girl. She had tried her hardest to satisfy him, and since he wasn't completely heartless he would let her live for that. Even when he had violently ripped her dirty excuse for a dress off had she screamed or cried. And she was even quite fair-looking, to be a peasant girl that is – you didn't shudder at the sight of her face.  
"Count yourself lucky girl", he said, a tad out of breath. He slapped her scrawny ass and pulled his cock out of her wet cunt. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoyed it!"  
Not surprisingly, the girl didn't respond. He got out of the simple peasant bed and started to put on his breeches. If she produced him a bastard, he might even come to see the child once in a while, just to get to fuck this girl again. Maybe he could even bring her back with him to King's Landing, have some fun with her there. That would—  
Blood poured out of the stab wound in his stomach. The sudden shock made him paralyzed, and he stared at the girl, a smile slowly creeping over her face. "Don't flatter yourself, you were by far the worst man I've ever bedded", she said sweetly.  
The words aggravated him, and the knight shook of the initial shock of being stabbed. He growled and with one hand still on his stomach, he threw himself over the bed to get to the girl. She simply stepped swiftly to the side and laughed when he fell hard on the floor. "My! Is the big, bad knight having difficulties catching a small, defenseless peasant girl?", she mocked. As she spoke she circled around the bed, and the knight rose with difficulty from the floor, the wound bleeding more every second, making his head dizzy. He growled once more, and made a movement as he was to reach for his sword at the end of the bed. How dared she mock him, a knight of Kings Landing!  
"Now, maybe I'm being unfair, you are wounded quite badly. I'd say you have about ten minutes before you pass out… if you're lucky." By the time she had finished speaking the knight had reached his sword and now he proceeded to draw it. "Stupid whore", he said, his voice lacking the usual intimidation.  
She made a pouty face and acted hurt, mocking him even more. "Aww, you are not gonna hurt me with the big sword of yours, are you? Not the one in your pants I mean – you won't be able to hurt no one with that! – but the one in your hand right now." He roared (but it came out more as a squeal) and charged her. The girl simply laughed a very lovely laugh and stepped aside as easily as before. He came crashing into the wall next to the door, and once more he laid on the floor. The energy was draining from him more quickly now – what exactly had she done to him? No stab wound would make a fit and big man this weak and feeble. Had she used some sort of poision?  
"What… exactly are… you?", he managed to say as his vision slowly failed him. The girl came and stood before him. She drew out the dagger she had used to stab him the first time. It was a beautiful, yet simple, dark coloured dagger, above the hilt an intricate dragon held on to the blade - nothing a mere peasant girl would ever have the money to buy in a hundred lifetimes. She bent down and wiped the blood off it on his breeches. "You're no… no ordinary… peasant girl…", he said, his tongue as clumsy as if he had had too much wine.  
The girl raised her head and looked him deep in the eyes. "Correct, sweet knight. I'm not." Then she smiled and with the swiftness of a diving falcon, she ended his life.


	2. Chapter 1

"Bloody Starks, not knowing when to keep their mouths shut." Shikra kicked in the dirt. "A bloody mess is what it is!"

"There, there, sweet brother", Besra said and put a hand on Shikra's arm. "The poor dirt never did you anything wrong, did it? If it's anything you should kick, it's those bastards in Kings Landing." Besra tightened her hold on Shikra's arm at her own words. Only the Gods knew how much she'd like to kick and punch those who were responsible for all of this misery.

There was a sudden wail from behind them, and the siblings both turned to see their younger brother sitting on the grass a few yards away. He was crying loudly and held on to one of his legs. One of his knees were scrubbed and a small trickle of red blood made its way down his leg. Besra hurried there and knelt next to her brother. "What happened Kestrel?", she asked while she tried to get a better look at his knee. It was only a mere scratch, nothing that would even leave a mark.

Through the sobs Kestrel tried to tell Besra what had happened: "I-I was playing war... and then, then I f-fell and hurt my k-knee", he cried and threw himself around his sister's waist. She patted his golden locks a little and then made him look at her. "Should we go and find the Maester so that he can patch you up? Only five and already a true warrior!" She tickled him, and that made Kestrel forget about his wound for a little while.

"Yes, let's find Maester", Kestrel said and let his sister lift him up on his feet again. He took her hand and Besra proceeded to lead him back to the castle. Shikra had been looking on from a distance with an unimpressed expression the whole time. Now he caught up with the other two, and he gave Besra a meaning glance. Besra just shook her head at him. She knew all too well what he was thinking – that Kestrel was too weak, too frail, and maybe even too stupid to be second in line to becoming lord of the house. It was all bullshit, of course. Kestrel was only just turned five and acted accordingly. In all of Westeros there was probably no five year old that wouldn't wail at the sight of a bleeding knee, or the sudden impact with the ground.

Shikra stayed silent all the way back to the castle, and it was up to Besra to keep her younger brother's thoughts on happier things than his throbbing knee and a disappointed Shikra. Every now and then Kestrel would glance up at Shikra, but the older brother wouldn't look upon him. Besra found it most unfair of Shikra to treat Kestrel like this – not speaking to him, ignoring him… but mostly she felt Shikra put all of the responsibility on her. It was not only Besra's brother, but Shikra's too. And after all, if it was someone that should teach Kestrel how to be a man, it was Shikra.

The Maester was studying an old scroll when the siblings found him. "Maester, Kestrel hurt his knee while playing. Please take a look at it", Besra said. The Maester looked up at them and gave them a smile. "Of course, my lady", he said and motioned towards and empty chair. "Please sit down here, my young lord." Kestrel let go of his sister's hand and sat down. With much patience and experience, the Maester started to examine Kestrel.

While Kestrel was examined, Besra turned to Shikra. "You know you cannot treat him like you do. He is our younger brother, and he needs someone to teach him all the values and skills of a nobleman." Shikra snorted and shook his head. "As usual you try to lecture me, young sister. I have better things to do than take care of a whiny brat", Shikra responded.

Besra felt how her face heated with anger. "Oh, really, dear brother? Have you become too important and mighty for us now?" Her voice shook a little when she uttered the last few words, but she hoped Shikra wouldn't notice – he despised her short temper. But of course he noticed. "It is not becoming for a lady to let her anger show so easily. It looks like it's not only Kestrel that needs to be taught how to behave like someone of noble birth." Bad move.

"So, Shikra, you mean to tell me your sister slapped you in the face?", lord Faulkner asked and looked between his son's beaten face and his sullen looking daughter. "She did, father. And you know this is not the first time she forgets herself in this way." Their father snorted and said: "To me it looks like she punched your face quite a few times, and from your limping earlier it looks like she might've done more than that. It's not only Besra that forgets herself – how could you let yourself get so badly beaten by a girl younger than yourself? Bah!"

Besra couldn't help but to smile a little at her father's scolding. He was a good and fair man, but he was also very biased towards his favourite, and only, daughter. "Father, I am very sorry for losing my temper yet again, but Shikra made both myself and Kestrel look bad. I had to defend our honour", Besra said, the smile still lingering. But to her surprise, her father didn't just wave it off with a "just don't do it again", but he hit his desk with a closed fist and looked at her with firm eyes. "And what did that accomplish? Making the future lord of this house look weak? Is that what you wanted? There is already a lot of talk among both the servants and nobles about Kestrel, Shikra and you." He was angry, and Lord Faulkner was very rarely angry. In fact, Besra had only seen him angry twice in her life.

"I'm sorry father…", she began, but Lord Faulkner held up a hand to silence her. "No, Besra. I will not have you humiliate anyone important of this house anymore. The Gods know that we cannot afford any more of that. Your temper has cost us a lot of standing, and while I have overlooked it for far too long it is now time for me to say that enough is enough." Lord Faulkner leaned back in his chair with a sigh and studied his children. Besra's heart raced, she knew this look – this will not end the way she'd hoped. "I honestly don't know what to do with you, Besra."

Shikra cleared his throat and tried not to wince in pain when he straightened himself. "Father, if you would allow me propose a way to deal with this", he said and tried to look important. Besra wanted to punch that stupid look from his face, but she remained calm. There was too much to lose at this point, she knew. Her father had indeed been overseeing with her temper and her sometimes un-ladylike behaviour, and she had always known it was just a matter of time before her father would have to do something about it.

With a nod Lord Faulkner gave Shikra approval to give his proposal. Once again Shikra cleared his throat, and before he spoke he gave his sister a mean grin. "It is my theory that my dear sister has been misbehaving most of her life because of a lack of a female teacher and role model. It is my firm belief that a woman needs someone of their own sex to teach them how to behave and act like a real lady. There is a lot of long guarded secrets that teach a girl how to become a woman grown, but these are only passed down woman to woman." He started pacing the study, trying to conceal his limping as much as he could. "That is why I think we have to send her off to become a handmaiden. As a handmaiden Besra could provide us with valuable information and even important allegiances. Why not send her off to Kings Landing, father?"

Bestra punched him in the face.


End file.
